Speak
by BlaiddDrwg30
Summary: A short little ficlet that takes place in the beginning of the season eight episode, 'Listen'. What would have happened if the Doctor and Clara were honest with themselves and each other? Rated for kissing and mature thoughts.


He folded his hands in has lap, then unfolded them. He crossed his arms and then uncrossed them. It was no good. He couldn't for the life of him seem to relax. Was it nerves? Nooooo. Why would he be nervous? _Should_ he be nervous? This was Clara. His Clara. He had known her for what felt like forever, even though in actuality it really hadn't been that long at all. She had seen him at his best and quite possibly seen him at his worst as well. So just because he was sitting in the middle of her bedroom, waiting for her to get home from a date, didn't mean he had any reason to be nervous. Right? He looked around the room. Typical Clara. A mess of contradictions. A tidy stack of books sat next to a pink shirt thrown haphazardly on the edge of the bed. On her dresser sat various cosmetics all in color coordinated order. A bossy control freak. Those were her own words, after all. He allowed himself a small glimmer of a smile. She did that to him; made him smile, made him feel as if the weight of the world wasn't quite as heavy as it usually seemed. And how did he repay her? By making sure she knew he wasn't her 'boyfriend.' He put his face in his hands. Oh, how he had regretted saying that since then. So many times his words came back to haunt him, to tease him with the hint or the hope of what could have been...

Clara pulled her jacket closer to her body as she walked home furiously. She couldn't believe how badly the night had gone. It was the first date, for crying out loud, how badly can one botch things up on the first date? Apparently, catastrophically and irreversibly. She didn't think her and Dan would be able to recover from this. And to be honest she wasn't completely sure she _wanted_ to. He was cute, sure. And he was definitely nice, for the most part. But every time they were around each other they either ended up insulting each other or just coming across as flat out ridiculous. _And that was my fault, this time_, she thought bitterly. She had to go an make that offhand comment. She hadn't meant to hurt his feelings, honestly she didn't. And as much as she tried to not think about it...she knew the Doctor wouldn't have gotten upset with her if it had been _him_ she was talking too. He would have understood. He always understood her. As cantankerous and difficult as he had become after his latest regeneration, she still felt as if she got along better with him than she did with anyone else in the world. She smiled to herself at the thought. The person she _should_ have felt the most uneasy with ended up the person she felt the closest to. Funny how the world worked, sometimes. She began to wonder when she would see the Doctor again, what misadventures they would get up to. With her heart feeling a bit lighter, she hurried on her way home.

The Doctor sighed and crossed his arms once more. He checked the time and saw it had only been minutes since he had last checked. And only half an hour into her alleged date. He rubbed his eyes. This was getting ridiculous. As if he had any right to be here. As if he had any right to question her romantic inclinations or even be interested in them. He had made his stance on that quite clear, hadn't he? No hanky panky in the Tardis. No way, no how. He was _not_ boyfriend material. At least, not anymore. So then why couldn't he stop thinking about her? Why did the thought of her being on a date...with someone other than himself just fill him with such anger? Such frustrating helplessness?

Clara furrowed her brow as she bit her lip and continued to ponder what went wrong during her date. It was more than just a failed attempt at humor that was taken the wrong way. When she looked at it objectively, she could see that she had actually gone into that restaurant with the subconscious knowledge that it would fail. What in the world was wrong with her? Why would she WANT the date to fail? _Unless_ the thought rose up, _it was because she knew in her heart that she only had feelings for one man, and one man only?_ She mentally groaned. She had been putting off thinking about this very thing for weeks now. And with school and frequent trips with the Doctor she had been too busy to dwell on it much. But now, walking home by herself, with only the bright stars above for company, these particular thoughts would not leave her alone. She had feelings for the Doctor, she couldn't deny that, and she had been unspeakably crushed when he made it clear to her that he wasn't interested in her that way. But she had moved on. Started looking at other people. At least she thought she had. But maybe she wasn't really over the Doctor. Maybe she would NEVER be over him. She sighed as she reached her home. _Clara Oswald_, she thought, _what a sad and sorry state you are in. Better snap out of it. At least you still get to travel with him, go on adventures with him, look after him...in a way. Even if he's not your...significant other, at least you still have the Doctor in your life_. She smiled to herself as she walked in the door.

She took her shoes off at the door and tiredly walked to her room. _If there is anything more emotionally draining than purposely mucking up a date, I don't know what it is_. She opened the door to her bedroom only to have it make contact with something heavy. A dull 'THUMP' rang through the hallway as she tried to imagine what she could have left that was that big that could get in the way. She peered around the door and almost had a heart attack when she saw it was the Tardis.

"You just have to squeeze through," a familiar grumpy voice announced.

"Doctor?!" Was this a hallucination?

He was seated at her vanity table, looking disgruntled. "Why do you have three mirrors? Why don't you just turn your head?"

She couldn't have been more surprised if the Tardis had landed on her head instead of her bedroom. Speaking of which...the Doctor. Was in. Her bedroom. Her face flushed at the thought as she sputtered, "What are you doing in here?"

"You said you had a date. I thought I'd better hide in the bedroom in case you brought him home. Bit early, aren't you? Did it all go wrong? Or is this good by your standards?" He was trying his best to sound diplomatic and vaguely uninterested, but he felt he wasn't doing a good job. In fact he was almost gleeful at the sight of her so early in the evening.

"It was a disaster and I'm extremely upset about it, since you didn't ask." She slumped on the bed and hugged a pillow to her waist. She didn't know what she had expected, but she was slightly miffed to see him so damn _happy _at her misfortune.

He frowned. "I'm sorry."

She must have heard wrong. "Excuse me?"

He got up and walked over to her. He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her. Her heart skipped a beat, and it felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room.

"I said...that I was sorry."

She frowned slightly, wondering if this was some sort of elaborate hoax. "You don't...look sorry."

He sighed. "I'm sorry that you're upset, not sorry that your date ended badly."

She blinked. "Really? But...why?"

He was silent for a moment, presumably searching for the right words. "I may have been...overly hasty when I said that I was not your boyfriend."

Clara was stunned. She didn't know if it was because the Doctor had just admitted he was wrong or that he...wait, what exactly was he admitting? That he _was _her boyfriend?

He must have seen the expression on her face because he let out a quick snort. "Not that I expect you to think of me in that way, exactly. I still don't know about myself being boyfriend material." He looked at her, sheepishly. "But despite that, I do...care for you."

"You do?"

He stood up, exasperated. "Yes, I do. Thought I might as well tell you, even though I don't see how you could ever feel..."

"Of course, I do."

He blinked. "What?"

She stood up. "Of course I feel the same way, you bloody fool!"

They had each taken the other by surprise, so they stood there, staring at each other silently. Afraid to make the next move. It felt as if this moment was made out of glass and could fracture and shatter at any moment.

Then, finally, the Doctor tentatively held his hand out to her, almost shyly. With a rush of relief she smiled and twined her fingers around his, amazing at how warm and safe just a simple thing like holding hands with the Doctor made her feel.

"No hugs though!" he said pointing at her. "I'm still not much of a hugging person."

Heart fluttering in her chest, Clara closed the rest of the gap between them and asked softly, "Guess I'll just have to make do with kissing then, won't I?"

She gently ran her hands up his chest and, gripping the lapels of his jacket, pulled him down closer to her. His eyes had a wild, almost scared brightness to them, _Don't worry, Doctor_, she thought, _I would never hurt you._ She pressed her lips against his, and delighted in the sensation of feeling his body relax against hers. She had imagined doing this for so long, it was hard to believe that it was really happening. He ran his fingers through her hair and tightened his grip, pulling her tighter and closer to him. She let out a small mewl of pleasure as she parted her lips for him and silkily ran her tongue across his.

"Aye," he said softly, a few moments later, a small smile spreading across his face. "I could definitely get used to the kissing."


End file.
